Scratches
by viveamo91
Summary: Santana doesn't care about anything but being Brittany's. She has an unhealthy method to cope with the intense pain. The little scratches from her sharp fingernails are the only thing that get her throgh the day. Warning: Possible Self-Harm Trigger.


**A/N: This is pretty dark, deals with self-harm (deep scratching with fingernails)**

**Of course, my lovely readers, you should never, ever, ever resort to self harm in any form, its awful, and once you've started, its incredibly hard to stop. (yes, I know that first-hand)**

**This takes place anytime after the Hurt Locker Scene. **

**I hope you enjoy, please review!**

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><p>Santana Lopez lay in her bed, wearing a white camisole and tiny red shorts. She filed her nails, doing her best to forget the events of the past few weeks. She remembered the advice she had googled on coping with a broken heart. (Its not lame if nobody knows, right?) The cheesy websites offered all kinds of advice, none of it seemed to work. "Hearts are broken everyday, my pain is not the worst anyone has ever felt." She repeated in her head. But it didn't help. Her pain felt worse that <em>anything<em> anyone could have possibly experienced.

The calm, reassuring words she told herself weren't helping. She looked at her newly filed nails, each one filed to a sharp end point. She ran one finger down her forearm, slowly and forcibly. At one point the slight pain made her forget about Brittany, for just a second. It was like a cigarette. One and you're hooked. She added the rest of her fingers, bringing them down faster, harder. It hurt like a bitch. She began mirroring her actions on the other arm at the same time, her left hand scratching up and down her right arm, and vice versa. Her arms stung, and she could feel a few bleeding cracks popping up. The pain was the only thing on her mind. Pain, heat, and stinging all over her arms was the only thing that she could process. Every few seconds, she'd stop, it was the only thing her body could do. She placed her cool hands on the burning scratches, immediately relieving the pain, at least partially. It was beautiful, until the pain was toned down enough that she could remember the reason behind her scratching, So she started again.

After about 10 minutes (although she hadn't the faintest idea how long it had been, she was exhausted, all her energy had been exerted. She turned off her light and got back into bed, her arms throbbing. In the dim moonlight she could see the scars everywhere, a few drops of blood along the worst of the lines. She could feel the blood pumping in her arms, a strange sensation that calmed her in a strange way. She drifted off to sleep, her mind thinking partly of Brittany, partly of her sexuality, and partly of her throbbing arms.

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><p>Santana woke to her alarm the next morning, and her first waking thought was the same as it frequently is. "Brittany. God, she's beautiful. Oh yes, she's not mine." Santana loved those few seconds in the morning, when she was too tired to remember the truth. Suddenly she remembered her dumb actions of the previous night. Only a few scratches remained, but they were hardly noticeable. Human fingernail scratches tend not to last 8 hours unless they break the skin, after all. And if they don't show, its not harmful, right?<p>

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><p>Later that day in glee club, Santana lets her eyes drift to Brittany for just a second. She's giving Artie and Eskimo kiss. She instinctively reaches behind her, and drags her nails as hard as she can along her lower back. Sitting two chairs away from everyone else in the back row had its unexpected benefits, as no one noticed anything. And the surge of pain and endorphins were enough to calm Santana down ,at least a little bit.<p>

"And as you know, we had a bit of a problem with the sizing for our outfits as Regionals, so if everyone's just got to try on theirs to make sure it fits, then if you could come back in here, I'd like to take a picture to send to my parents if you don't mind." Mr. Schue announced, his enthusiasm never failing.

Santana grumbled to herself, she just wanted to stay seated, as usual, but she followed a few feet behind the other girls to the bathroom to change. (They knew changing in the locker rooms would piss off Sue.) Santana was a few steps behind the other girls, looking over her dress. It was prettier than the one she'd worn at Reigonals, but she didn't like it quite as much as the Sectionals dress. Nor did she care. When your hearts broken, little things don't matter as much. Not if they cant fix the pain.

Santana stopped for a drink of water, and Quinn's prom queen poster caught her eye. "Why does she want it so bad?" she thought to herself. "It doesn't matter at all."

She walked into the bathroom, shocked to get an eyeful of Zizes-butt. If anything could ever turn her straight, that was it. But then she got an eye full of Brittany, in her bra and panties, and that was a sight that was both painful and beautiful to Santana. She let her eyes linger a moment on the perfect body before averting them, crossing her arms to appear defensive. She felt her cheeks burn, and she realized a second later than Lauren Zizes had _definitely _noticed the gazing. She waited for the comment, trying to figure out a comeback to the joke that was coming. Instead Lauren simply asked "Aren't you gonna change Satan?"

"I'm waiting until one of them gets out of the stall" Santana mumbled, her eyes still staring at a cracked tile on the wall. As if on cue, Tina opened the door to her stall, and Santana walked quickly, doing her best to avoid looking at Brittany as she struggled to zip up the back of her dress.

She crashed the door to the stall shut, quickly stripping her jeans and shirt. She ran her fingers along the bumpy scars on her back, which still hurt. She pulled on the dress, and as she was zipping it, she heard Quinn casually ask Brittany "So did Artie ask you to prom in a cute way, Britt?" "He gave me a yellow rose with a card attached to it that said "Will you go to prom with me?" Brittany answered, more excitement in her voice than usual. Without any thought, Santana grabbed her arm and ripped her nails down hard. The pain was unbearable for a second, and she pressed it to the cool metal wall to ease it. She looked down at her arm, five fleshy pink lines running from just below her shoulder, to just above her elbow. The middle one began to crack and bleed.

"Santana, are you coming? Mr. Schuster is waiting for us." Rachel's annoying voice sounded right outside the stall. Santana picked her clothes up off the floor, making an attempt to hold them in such a way that her scratches would be covered. It didn't work. She opened the door and burst the huddle of girls, who were in reality the closest things she had to best friends. She wishes she could go talk to them about it, but there was no way she could open up to them, or anyone. Opening up had only ever gotten her hurt.

She walked quickly back to the choir room, the other girls behind. They were whispering something Santana couldn't quite hear, but it didn't take a genius to figure out it was about her. She didn't care. She knew Mr. Schuster was going to see the scratches on her arms, she knew there was nothing she could do to cover up what they were and how they got there_. _

_And as long as Brittany wasn't hers, she just didn't care._


End file.
